Sal Gabrini: Love And War

by Mallory Monroe

  “There’s more than the four we took out?” Sal asked, and Gemma looked too. She was as concerned as Sal.

  Robby was nodding his head. “There’s more,” he said. “But we’re on it, Boss. We’ll take care of them.”

  “Like hell you will,” Sal said. “I’ll take care of them. When you find those fuckers, you let me know. My family was with me. My family!” Sal slammed his fist on the desk. “Are they out of their fucking minds?”

  “Since they came after you,” Robby said, “I would say yes, they are.”

  The desk intercom buzzed. Sal pressed it. “What?” he asked angrily.

  “Barbara Jiles and Curtis Kane are here to see Mrs. Gabrini, sir.”

  Sal looked at Gemma. Barbara and Curtis were her assistants in her law firm. “What are you looking at me for?” she asked. “They probably saw it on the news.”

  “You want to see them?” Sal asked her.

  “It’s probably not a good idea,” Robby quickly interjected, and Sal and Gemma looked at him. “I mean, since we’re talking business here.”

  Sal looked at Gemma, ignoring Robby. “You’re up to it?” he asked her.

  Gemma was still reeling because Lucky had been on the scene. It would have been different if it had just been her and Sal. Still upsetting, but different. “I can’t,” she said. “Not right now.”

  Sal didn’t hesitate. He pressed the intercom button. “Tell them my wife is fine, but she’s resting right now. She’ll give them a call later.”

  “Yes, sir,” the front gate officer said, and ended the call.

  But Sal was staring at Robby. “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Robby responded defensively. “Why would you ask?”

  “You look funny, that’s why.”

  Robby wondered if Sal knew about the super-secret relationship he had with Curtis Kane and was trying to call him funny as in gay, rather than funny as in not feeling well. But they were super-careful. There was no way Sal could know. “No, I’m fine,” he said.

  Sal stared at him a moment longer, but then focused on his real concern: the hit that could have irreparably harmed his family. He looked at Robby and his security chiefs. “Find those fuckers,” he said, “and I mean like yesterday.”

  “Yes, sir,” they all responded.

  “And I want to know who was the asshole who started this shit in the first place. Who iced their brother. That was some reckless shit. I want to see his ass too.”

  “Yes, sir,” Robby said, and then he and the chiefs left.

  Sal walked over to Gemma, and put his arms around her. “I know it’s tough,” he said.

  “Lucky was with us,” Gemma said.

  Sal nodded. “I know.” He leaned her against him. She laid against him. “I know.” He rubbed her hair. “But I’ll get those bastards, don’t you worry. We brought a child into this bitter world. That’s done now. It’s our job to protect him, and we did. I’m just sorry . . .”

  They both knew what Sal meant. Times like these they both wished they would not have made the decision to bring a child into their world. But the decision had been made. It was done now.

  Sal looked at Gemma. “I don’t want you beating yourself up about it, Gem,” he said. “It’s not our fault. We were living our lives, minding our own business. They brought this shit to us. I have to take it back to them. And I will. You can bet the ranch on that shit. But someday I’m hoping it’ll finally balance out. Maybe someday my good will outweigh my bad and we’ll catch a break.”

  Gemma looked at him. “Your good will outweigh your bad?” she asked. “Are you serious? Sal, there’ s no bad in you. You never pick these fights. Don’t do that to yourself.”

  Sal smiled. Gemma was the only one who actually gave him the benefit of the doubt. “If my ass would have stayed out of this business to begin with, you and Luck wouldn’t have to be dragged into it.” Then he exhaled. “But there’s nothing to be done about that now.” He looked at her. “We’ll be alright.”

  Gemma smiled. “You bet your ass we will,” she said, and Sal laughed.

  Then their look changed. And they stared into each other’s eyes. And they began kissing.

  Sal closed his eyes as he felt the coolness of Gemma’s soft lips on his. When their lips parted, Sal stared into her eyes. “I need to take you upstairs,” he said, “and fuck you.”

  Gemma knew the gravity of what he meant. It was no simple matter for them. “Please do,” she said, and Sal didn’t hesitate. He lifted her into his arms and carried her out of his office, up the stairs, and into their bedroom. It was such a nice, sweet gesture on his part.

  But if she thought their lovemaking was going to be just as nice and sweet, she was mistaken. By the time they both were undressed, and in bed, Sal was devouring her breasts and fingering her as he did. By the time she had his fingers wet with her vaginal juices, Sal was kissing her long and hard as he entered her. And when he entered her, nice and sweet was not the word.

  He thrust hard into her with such a push that she cried out as the feelings felt like ripples throughout her body. And that was just the teaser because Sal’s strokes continued to increase and increase until he was at a frenetic pace. He was pounding her. The bed was bouncing and Gemma was bouncing and he was thrashing the shit out of her. This was tension release of the highest order, and Gemma, unable to suppress the fact that her baby was in that hail of gunfire too, needed that release as badly as Sal.

  Sal kissed her the entire time he fucked her. He wanted to feel her in every inch of his being. They laid on their bed and fucked and kissed until they were cumming. And even after Sal came, he kept on kissing her and stroking her until they were cumming again.

  And then it was enough. The memories of that night were still there, but the edge was off. Sal, sweat-filled and drained, rolled off of Gemma, pulled her into his arms, and almost simultaneously fell asleep.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Sal woke up alone in bed. At first, it didn’t click. It felt the way it always felt whenever he was out of town on business and woke up in some hotel room all by himself. But when he continued to lay there, and looked around the familiar room, he realized the difference. He was not out of town. He was not in some hotel room. He was at home, with his family, the day after that near-tragedy at Reston Motors. And all he heard was the soft hum of the air conditioning clicking on.

  He lifted his body with a quick lift. “Gemma?” he yelled as he looked around and flung his naked body out of bed. He quickly put on a pair of pants and grabbed his gun out of the side panel behind his headboard. He hurried downstairs.

  He quickly, and with relief, realized his concern was misplaced. Gemma was in the kitchen, sitting at the center island with Tyler Stanford, her new campaign manager. He put his gun away.

  Gemma made the decision to run for District Attorney a few months ago, challenging Jasper Lowe, the current DA, after seeing the poor in Clark County railroaded and mistreated time and time again. She wanted to change things, and decided to be proactive. But that didn’t mean it was going to be a cakewalk.

  “Far from it,” Tyler was telling her as Sal made his way downstairs. “The latest poll shows us nearly eighteen points behind Jasper. We’ve got a lot of work to do. And what happened last night isn’t going to help. Have people started taking sides around the courthouse yet?”

  “Not yet,” Gemma said. “I’ve had a few attorneys and a judge wish me well, but that was as far as they were willing to go. Jasper is a powerful DA. I’m the upstart. They’ve got to be careful.”

  What surprised Sal was the fact that Gemma, like Tyler, was fully dressed in her work gear: a dark skirt suit. Her briefcase was sitting beside the island. Gemma smiled when she saw him make his way into the kitchen. But she could also tell he was a little pissed that she had gotten out of bed and showered and dressed, without waking him. “Good morning, babe,” she said with a grand smile.

  Tyler, a young, handsome African-American, was one of t
he few male associates of Gemma’s that Sal actually liked, looked in Sal’s direction too. “Hey, Sal, what’s up?” he asked.

  “I don’t know yet,” Sal responded. He looked at Gemma. “What’s with the briefcase? What’s with the suit?”

  Gemma didn’t understand. “What do you mean?”

  “What are you all dolled-up for? You aren’t going anywhere.”

  This not only surprised Gemma, but Tyler as well. “She’s not?” he asked, and then he looked at Gemma.

  “Tyler arranged press interviews for today, Sal,” Gemma said.

  “We need to announce some of our campaign initiatives to change the subject from what happened yesterday,” Tyler added. “These interviews are vital.”

  “I don’t care what they are,” Sal responded. “My wife isn’t going anywhere.”

  Gemma looked at Sal. “You think there’s still a threat?” she asked him without getting into too many details around Tyler.

  “I think I don’t know,” Sal said. “Until I do, you work from home.”

  “Are you giving us permission to bring reporters here then?” Tyler asked.

  “They can’t come here,” Sal said. “They can Skype that shit, or just wait.” He looked at Gemma. “Things need to settle down first.”

  “But these are crucial days, Sal,” Tyler said. “We can’t take a day off. Not one single day. I was just telling Gem how we’re eighteen points behind. Do you realize how much work we have to do to dig out of a hole that steep? And we haven’t even had our launch party yet!”

  But Gemma looked at Tyler. “Ty, do the interviews in my place. Tell them I’m resting after what happened yesterday, but I’ll be available again very soon.”

  “And if they don’t want to interview me?” Tyler asked. “What then?”

  Gemma frowned. “Then fuck it,” she said in a way that made Sal proud. “I know plenty reporters who will be more than happy to interview you in my stead. But Sal is right. We’re moving too fast considering the circumstances. You’ve got to give me a little time.”

  Sal was pleased that Gemma didn’t question his decision. When it came to her safety, she allowed his authority to be absolute. He knew that wasn’t easy for her in any event, not a strong, independent woman like Gemma, and he appreciated it.

  Gemma could tell Tyler didn’t agree with her unquestioned faith in Sal’s judgment, but she also knew he didn’t have a choice. He gathered up his papers and lap top and stood to his feet. “I think we aren’t moving fast enough,” he said, “but that’s my opinion.” He looked at Gemma. “I’ll contact the reporters, see what they want to do. I’ll keep you posted.”

  “Thank you,” Gemma said.

  “Sal,” Tyler said with a slight nod of the head, as his form of goodbye, and then made his way out of their home.

  Sal smiled. “He’s not a happy camper,” he said.

  “He’s pissed,” Gemma agreed. “But he’ll be okay.”

  Sal sat at the center island beside her. “I know it’s inconvenient,” he said, “but give me a few days. It shouldn’t take more than that. I need to clear this shit up.”

  “Do you believe Robby when he said that family didn’t realize who they had targeted for that hit?”

  Sal ran his hands through his already messy hair. “That’s what he figures. But I don’t know. It’s the worse kept secret in America about my ass, especially in the underworld. They know who I am.”

  “But if that’s true,” Gemma said, “and this Bonaduce family decided to hit you anyway, what does that mean, Sal? That can’t be good, can it?”

  “No,” Sal said bluntly. “It’ll be disrespect of the highest level. It means trouble, Gemma. I can’t sugarcoat that shit. If they know who I am, and came after me anyway?” He shook his head in anguish.

  Gemma placed her hand in his. She remembered how his hands were all over her body last night, and how wonderful it felt. Now all she felt was his distress. She wanted to say all would be well, and urge him not to worry. But that wasn’t her style and Sal loved that about her. She didn’t sugarcoat the bitter either.

  “Tommy and Grace called while you were sleeping,” Gemma said.

  Sal looked at Gemma. “Told them we were fine, right?”

  Gemma nodded. “I told them. But Tommy still wants you to call him. And we’re having dinner with Reno and Trina.”

  “When?”

  “Tonight.”

  Sal’s cell phone rang. He answered quickly. “What?”

  It was Robby. “They’ve arrived,” he said on the other end of the phone.

  Sal was pleased. “I’m on my way.”

  When he ended the call, he kissed Gemma, and made his way back upstairs.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  On the top floor of the Vegas office of the Gabrini Corporation, two of Sal’s most prominent underbosses, Fat Frank Fechetti and Vinnie “Machine Gun” Vazzano, were waiting in his office. No other visitors to GCI Vegas ever got the privilege of waiting for the boss in his own office, but Fat Frank and Vinnie Vazzano weren’t ordinary visitors. Although they were Sal’s underbosses, they had reputations from here to Montreal that evoked fear in every man who knew them. They were ruthless. They stood on their own two feet.

  But that didn’t mean they weren’t worried. Vinnie stood up twice, paced the floor, and sat down again: he was that worried. An attempted hit took place last night. Sal’s wife and son could have been killed. He knew better than anyone that somebody had to pay. Since Fat Frank had seniority (he’d been with Sal the longest), Vinnie figured he would bear the brunt. But even Frank, who knew what Sal was capable of, wasn’t exactly cooling it either.

  And when the door finally opened, and Sal finally walked in with Robby Yale, his consigliere, both men rose to their feet in respect. This was going to be a tough meeting. They could see it all over Sal’s face.

  “Hey, Sal Luca, how you doing?” Vinnie had a big smile on his face. A smile Sal didn’t return.

  “What’s up, Boss?” Frank asked.

  “Sit down,” Sal said to both men as he walked over to his desk and leaned against it, facing the two men that now sat in front of the desk. Robby folded his big, muscular arms and stood beside him.

  “How’s everybody doing?” Fat Frank asked. “How’s Gemma and Luck holding up?”

  Sal frowned. “How do you think, motherfucker? They nearly got wasted last night. Does that tell you how they’re holding up? Now you tell me what the fuck happened. How did some small-ass hood nearly take out my entire family? You tell me how that shit went down, Fat, that’s what I need you to tell me.”

  Frank leaned forward. He was a man who spoke with his hands and in a hard Brooklyn accent. He needed the room. “They’re a bunch of nobodies, Sal,” Frank said. “Zeros to mankind, know what I’m saying? But they think they’re invincible. They think they’re above you. You don’t scare people like that, because they only know you as this Vegas businessman who supposedly have ties to the mob or whatever. They don’t know who you really are. They heard rumors, but they never experienced it themselves, hear what I’m saying? They don’t believe that shit is real.”

  “Where are they?” Sal asked. “Those motherfuckers will see how real it is real soon. Where are they?”

  “We’re on it, Boss,” Vinnie said. “It’s going to take time, but we’re doing everything we possibly can to smoke them out.”

  “How do they make their living?” Sal asked.

  “Shylocking,” Vinnie said. “Forcing poor people to pay high-ass interest rates on loans that they know will keep those people under their control for life. Blackmail is another big racket they’re into. Underhanded shit like that.”

  But his response only continued to fuel Sal’s anger. “You mean to tell me that a bunch of bullshit shakedown artists tried to take me and my family out? And you haven’t found their sorry asses?”

  “We’re on it, Boss,” Frank said. “But it goes deeper than them.”

  Sal looked at Fat Fr
ank. They’d been friends since childhood. He trusted him with his life. But right now, he didn’t understand a word he was saying. “What do you mean?” he asked. “How the hell can it go deeper than them?”

  Frank knew he was taking a risk. He and Vinnie had already discussed it, and Vinnie ruled against trying. But Frank wasn’t made like that. He believed their boss, in the end, would do what was smart. “You’ve got to make a decision, Sal Luca.”

  Sal stared at him. “A decision about what?”

  “Who are you going to be,” Frank responded. “Are you going to be a full-time businessman, or a full-time boss? You can’t be both. This part-time shit ain’t working so well no-more.”

  Vinnie was stunned that Fat Frank would be so bold. He was ready for the gun to come out and for Sal to kill them both. Mick the Tick Sinatra took out his underbosses that way when they fucked up, and he was Sal’s uncle. Why wouldn’t Sal take them out that way too?

  But instead of pulling out a gun, Sal continued to stare at Frank. And Frank did not back down. “You can’t run the Gabrini Crime Family, and that’s what we are, let’s face it. But you can’t run the family on a part-time basis. You just can’t anymore. The world is changing too rapidly now. Young guns think they know better. Females think they can do better. Fuckers marrying fuckers now, Sal. Men marrying men! There’s some fucked up shit going on out there.”

  Robby’s jaw tightened when he heard those words. He was Sal’s consigliere now: the family advisor and Sal’s main number two. And he was in a secret relationship with a man, a man who also happened to work for Sal’s wife. He truly believed Sal would kill him if he found out.

  But Frank didn’t even look in Robby’s direction, which made Robby certain he hadn’t found out anything and wasn’t throwing some veiled shade his way. Frank, instead, continued to make his point. “Used to be a time you shoot’em between the eyes, execution style, or in the mouth if they rat, to send your message. But nowadays fuckers are strapping bombs to babies to send their messages. Fuckers are blowing up entire buildings just to smoke out one guy. It’s crazy out there, Boss!”